The story of the stolen Ferrari F50 is one of deception, crime, and government negligence, culminating in an embarrassing wreck that left insurance companies and federal agencies in a legal battle. This guide breaks down the bizarre journey of one of the rarest Ferraris ever made and how it ended up in the hands of the FBI—only to be totaled in a suspicious accident.
In 2003, a Ferrari F50, one of only 349 ever built, sat gleaming in the showroom of Algar Ferrari in Rosemont, Pennsylvania. Enter Tom Baker, a smooth-talking airline pilot with a taste for fast cars. Posing as a tech CEO from California, he convinced the dealership that he was a serious buyer. Without a driver’s license but with an air of confidence, Baker managed to take the F50 on a test drive.
What happened next was straight out of a heist movie. The moment the salesman stepped out of the car, Baker floored it, disappearing over the horizon in a $500,000 supercar. Authorities believed it would be quickly smuggled overseas, but Baker had a different plan—he kept it for himself, hiding it in suburban Kentucky.
For five years, the stolen F50 remained a ghost in the automotive world. Baker, a seasoned conman, had stolen multiple Ferraris in the past, including a Testarossa and a 328 GTS. But in 2008, he attempted to sell the F50 to an emergency room doctor in Kentucky. The sale seemed legitimate until the doctor contacted Ferrari to verify the VIN and engine number. That’s when the truth was uncovered—the car was stolen.
Panicked, Baker refunded the doctor’s money, but it was too late. Law enforcement was alerted, and the FBI seized the F50. Baker was arrested and sentenced to prison, ending his criminal joyrides.
Motors Insurance Corp., which had paid Algar Ferrari for the stolen F50, was relieved to hear it had been recovered. But they wouldn’t see it again in one piece.
In May 2009, FBI Special Agent Frederick Kingston and Assistant U.S. Attorney J. Hamilton Thompson took the Ferrari for a drive in Kentucky. The official story was that they were moving the vehicle to a storage facility, but within seconds of leaving the parking lot, disaster struck. The F50 lost control, fishtailed, and slammed into a tree. The carbon-fiber frame was severely damaged, rendering the car a total loss.
While Thompson’s email described the crash as a minor mishap, photos revealed the extent of the damage—the monocoque was broken, and the car was beyond repair. The insurance company, stunned by the destruction of the car they legally owned, demanded compensation.
Initially, the FBI told Motors Insurance they could file a claim for damages. However, in 2010, the U.S. Department of Justice denied the claim, arguing that the Ferrari was “being detained by the FBI” at the time of the wreck. According to federal law, the government cannot be sued for property damage when an asset is in law enforcement custody.
Motors Insurance, unwilling to accept the loss, filed Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests seeking details about the crash. The FBI and DOJ ignored or denied these requests. Frustrated, the insurance company filed a lawsuit in federal court to force the agencies to release information and compensate them for the $750,000 loss.
Despite mounting legal pressure, the FBI refused to admit fault, sticking to its position that it was not liable for damages. The insurance company argued that the car was not being “detained” but rather had been voluntarily lent to the FBI, making them responsible for its destruction.
As the case dragged on, a key question emerged—why was the Ferrari being driven in the first place? If it was purely being relocated, why did it crash within seconds? Some suspected a joyride gone wrong, as high-powered supercars require an experienced driver to handle them, especially one as rare and powerful as the F50.
Meanwhile, the remains of the wrecked Ferrari disappeared from public view. Whether it was scrapped, stored, or salvaged remains a mystery. What is clear, however, is that a car once stolen by a daring conman was ultimately wrecked in the hands of those sworn to uphold the law.